


We balance each other out

by Fogfire



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Childbirth, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 13:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16388213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fogfire/pseuds/Fogfire
Summary: Warning: childbirth is messy - some curse words





	We balance each other out

„Well, let’s get going, Bones,“ Jim claps him on the back and darts past you towards the car, „Don’t want to get stuck in traffic on our way back.“

„Don’t say that!“ Bones snaps and helps you down the few steps, „I’m already anxious enough with you driving us back as it is.“

„Don’t snap at him,“ you tell your husband off, „He’s trying to be nice…“

He grumbles, but stays quiet and helps you into the car.

„Are you comfortable?“ He asks and drapes a blanket on your lap before checking that you have a bottle of water with you.

You show him the bottle with a smile. „Relax, Len. It’s just a baby, not a deathly disease. It’s going to be alright. I can already breathe a lot better than I did yesterday.“

He still looks concerned.

„That could be the stage of lightening. Let me check if the baby has moved.“

You stop him before he can pull out his own, very special first-aid-kit.

„It’s fine, Len. The baby is due in about a week. Not today, not tomorrow. Jim will drive safe, we will stop every hour so I can pee and in about five hours we will be back in the City.“

„I should have never let you persuade me to come and stay at this farm house in the first place,“ he complains and gets into the passenger seat.

Jim doesn’t even wait for him to put his seat belt on, just pushes down the gas pedal and speeds out of the driveway, spraying gravel into the forest.

„Dammit, Jim, are you trying to kill us?“

„Just making up for the time we lost because of your loitering.“

"She’s pregnant, you-”

“Relax!”, you interrupt your husband and put your hands on his shoulders, “Everything will be fine. Jim will behave from now on and before you try to pick another fight, do I have to remind you that it was you who wanted to get out of the city for our shore leave? How did you bribe us again?”

“Fresh air, good food, and beautiful nature,” Jim piped up and grinned back at you.

You rolled your eyes at him.

 

A five long hour drive is a very long time, especially if you have to sit in a car with Jim Kirk, the Captain that can never sit still and Doctor Leonard McCoy, the doctor who loves to complain.

The fact you were in the last stage of your pregnancy made things considerably harder to endure.

You had promised that you would only need toilet stops ever hour - just like on the drive to the little farm house two weeks ago - but your bladder and your baby didn’t want to hold onto that promise. After hour two passed you had to ask for the fifth stop and Jim wasn’t the only annoyed one in the car.

“Do you really have to pee that often?” He asks and leaves the highway.

“What else do you think I do in there?” You snap and wiggle around in your seat. The pressure in your bladder is almost unbearable now.

“I don’t know! Can’t you just take a bottle-”

“JIM!” Bones shouts, “I’m not letting my wife pee in a damn bottle!”

Jim growls in annoyance and halts in front of a small roadhouse.

“Take your time, M'lady,” he jokes almost bitterly and you flip him off before wobbling out of the car.

 

Being pregnant is hard. Beautiful, sometimes at least, but also hard.

The sickness in the first trimester, then the heart burns and the fact that none of the clothes ever fit - thank god for replicators - the kicking and the pressure on the bladder, diarrhea and the-

“Fuck!” You mumble and look down at your panties. There’s a bloody-brown tinted spot on the white fabric and everything makes sense.

The sensation of being able to breathe easier had been indeed a sign. The Baby had moved while you slept, its head dropped down into your pelvis in preparation for delivery. Which explained why you had to pee so often, it was pressing on your bladder even more than usual.

And now the bloody show - the little one was on her way.

“Come one,” you let your hands move over your belly in a soothing manner, “Don’t be impatient. If you wait a few more hours daddy will be more than happy to get you out of me, okay?”

 

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Jim asks when you get back in the car, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes.” “No,” You disagree with your husband and Jim smirks.

“Who’s honest now?”

“I am,” you say, leaning back in the seat, “I’m saying Penelope or Georgie, something that sounds like a southern Belle. And Len here wants weird names like Lora or Harper.”

“I like Penelope,” Jim smiles at you in the rearview mirror, “You can shorten it to Poppy.”

“A name is not supposed to be shortened,” Bones growls and you pat his shoulder.

“Whatever you say, Len, whatever you say.”

 

Hour three is coming to a close. You’ve stopped another three times because of your bladder, but Jim has kept quiet every time, while your husband throws you one worried glance after the other.

You could tell him what you’ve found out, but you’re a nurse and a woman who knows her body and you’ve decided that you can deal with this a bit longer if it means he’s going to stay calm during the drive.

And then the traffic slows down.

The highway is packed with cars who all drive into one direction.

First with a slow, but persistent speed, but then it drops to a nerve-wracking stop and go.

And then nothing.

“This can’t be happening,” Len mumbles, dread in his voice. He’s clutching the dashboard, his knuckles turning white, “This can’t be happening.”

You want to tell him to relax, that you will get out of this soon, but a cramp works its way through your body and you have to press your mouth shut to keep yourself from making a surprised noise.

It feels a tiny little bit like a strong hiccup but accompanied with all the other symptoms you’ve had throughout this day you know it’s a contraction.

Nothing to worry about, you tell yourself, as long as they are irregular and as long as my water hasn’t broken yet, I will be fine. Just a few more hours until we’re in the city.

“Are you okay?”

Jim’s voice snaps you out of the chaos in your head. You smile at him and move forward carefully, pushing your hands through Lens’ hair, calming him down.

“It’s just a traffic jam. Nothing big. It will clear soon.”

“I hope so,” he grumbles, “Do you want to get out and walk a bit? Your legs must be stiff.”

“No, I’m fine,” you decline quickly. The physical movement might stimulate the muscles and prepare for contractions and right now that’s the last thing you want.

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m just going to relax in my seat a bit. But if you want to, take a break, walk around the car for a bit. I’m gonna watch your back.”

You manage to wink at him and he smiles.

“You’re watching my back?” He jokes.

“Gross,” Jim complains, “You’re about to be parents. No sexy talk when the kids can hear you.”

“Oh, shut up,” you mumble and close your eyes for a moment.

You can hear the car door opening, Len groaning, the cracking of his joints when he stretches.

“Damn, you’re old,” Jim jokes from across the car.

“Shut up,” Len snaps and you smile.

Until another contraction hits.

 

You keep your eyes on the two men in front of the car while you breathe in and out, timing the contractions.

They are arguing, as far as you can tell with the doors closed and the windows up. You don’t hear a thing and you’re thankful for that.

“I’m sorry, Darling,” Len mumbles when he gets back into the car, “I’m afraid we will be here a bit longer.”

You can see that he tries to be calm for your sake.

“Looks like you will need to pee in a bottle after all,” Jim says and slips back into his seat.

“Dammit Jim,” Len grunts, “Where are your manners?”

“Back at the farm,” Jim quips, “I’m just being honest here, okay.”

You want to say something back at that, want to interrupt the fight that is going to start between them any moment now, but there is yet another contraction and a growing wetness between your legs.

“Fuck!” You say instead. “You don’t need to worry about peeing anymore, Jim.”

“What?!” He turns around to stare at you, “Don’t tell me you peed in the car.”

“I didn’t pee. The membranes of the amniotic sac ruptured.”

“WHAT?!” Len yells, while Jim just stares at you in confusion.

“Can you say that in English?”

“Her water broke, you absolute fool!”

“What?” Jim asks again and you groan out in anger.

“The baby,” you tell him, “It’s coming.”

“Now?!” Jim pales visibly, “It can’t come now! We’re stuck in a traffic jam in the middle of nowhere!”

“We know that!” You and Len yell at him in unison.

Another contraction hits you and you groan in pain.

Len’s in Doctor-mode immediately, jumping out of the car and pulling your door open.

“How bad are the contractions? How often do they come?”

“Every five to seven minutes. I’d give it a 3 to 4 on the pain scale.”

“That’s not that bad, is it?” Jim asks weakly and you glare at him.

“I can inflict the same pain on you if you want to know how bad it is,” you threaten him and he holds his hands up in defeat.

“I’m going to… uh… call the others. See if they know anything.”

“Right!” Len gnarls at him, “Make yourself useful for once!”

 

Half an hour later Jim returns.

You’re a mess, a sweating, groaning mess on the backseat, crying out in pain whenever a contraction hits, clutching on the anything that can give you at least a little support.

“I’ve got bad news,” he greets, “Cause of the traffic jam is an accident. They reckon that up to twenty people are injured and there’s been some serious damage. They’re redirecting traffic, but there only some smaller routes open and they estimate that we will have to wait at least two hours before we can get off the highway at least.”

“Two hours?” Len snaps, “Two frickin’ hours? This is a car! On a highway! And my wife is going into labor! I can’t deliver a baby in the middle of a frickin’ highway! Do you know how dirty this is? The risk of infection? Do you?! We need to get her to a hospital immediately!”

“I tried!” Jim yells out, “But they’re still treating the injured up north! There’s no one available for at least an hour! You’re a doctor!”

“I’m a-” Len sighs in exasperation and returns to your side, cooling your head with a wet wipe.

“Everything will be okay,” you tell him with a weak smile, “’s not gonna be the first baby that’s born in a car and it’s probably not going to be the last.”

“You’re not supposed to calm me down,” Len mutters bitterly and you start to laugh but it catches in your throat when another contraction hits.

“Jim!” You yell out when it passes, “Where’s Scotty?”

He looks at you like you’ve gone mad. Maybe you have.

“What?”

“Where’s Scotty? He and Chekov stayed in a house near ours, right? They might be close. Get him on the phone with Len.”

“Darling, he’s an engineer, not a doctor,” Len reminds you and you snort.

“I know that, but firstly I’d like him around, secondly he might have tools with him that we can use and thirdly could he stay with us while Chekov and Jim walk to the next roadhouse to get us some water and towels.”

“How can you stay calm in this?” Len asks in exasperation, “I’m the doctor, I’m supposed to be the calm one.”

“Well, I’m your wife, I’m supposed to be balancing you out.”

 

“You stay here,” Len tells Jim when he gets out of the car, “You time the contractions, you hold her hand and you keep an eye on her cervix. Don’t let her push until it’s properly dilated.”

“What?” Jim asks with a high voice.

“Don’t listen to him,’” You tell him, “I’m not letting you look at my cervix anyway.”

“What the hell is a cervix?” Jim grumbles and slips into the car, crouching into the small space between the backseat and the front seat.

“Do you really want to- agh”, you stop, gnarl and push down on his hand until you can hear him curse and feel the pain subside, “Know?”

 

You don’t know how long it takes Scotty to pack his things and get to you. You’ve lost track of time as the contractions have been getting more painful and Len’s looks have been getting more worried.

But then he’s here and you’re so glad to see his friendly face that it doesn’t matter how much you’re hurting and how gross childbirth is.

“Aye, lass, I heard ya need me?”

Scotty slips into the front seat and holds out a little juice box for you, puts the straw carefully between your lips.

You take one delicious sip of the juice.

“Is that grape juice?” You ask, taking another eager sip.

A smiling face framed by curly hair pushes past the passenger seat.

“It is your favorite, right?” Pavel asks and holds up a plastic bag filled with water bottles, paper towels, and more juice boxes.

“You’re a literal angel,” you mumble, “Both of you.”

“Well thank you,” Jim mumbles from the floor, “It’s not like I’ve been sitting here for the past hour, letting you crush my hand.”

“Get out of there,” Len orders before you can say something, “Sanitize your hands and help me. Darling, it’s time for you to push.”

“I don’t think I have it in me,” you murmur weakly.

“Yes you do,” Len’s voice is thick with worry and laced with determination, “Listen to me, darling, we’ve got so far already, you’re not giving up now. You’re supposed to balance me out, right?”

“Oh fuck you,” you tell him, “The next time you bear the child and then we talk about this again.”

Scotty chuckles next to you and a warm hand slip into yours, the pressure comforting.

“We can do zat together,” Pavel tells you.

“So far every child has come out,” Scotty assures you, “All you have to do is help it a little. Have you decided on the name yet?”

“No,” says Len while you say “Yes.”

“It’s going to be a Poppy,” Jim intervenes and steps next to his friend.

“What do I have to do?”

 

Delivering a child in the middle of a traffic jam is something that attracts people.

Not that you have the time to worry about that. Or the energy.

But you notice Pavel slipping out of the car more than once and when he comes back he mumbles about nosy people under his breath.

And then there’s Jim’s voice, loud and clear and horrified, cutting through the pain and the dullness of your mind.

“Fuck! What is that?!”

“That’s the head, you moron!” Len snaps, squeezing your knee in reassurance, “You’re doing fine, darling.”

You try to look at him, but Jim catches your attention instead, his face ghostly pale, his eyes rolling backward in a way that makes you sick. And then he faints, just like a lady in the good old times.

“Seriously?” Len says and looks down at his friend, before focusing again, “Chekov, out of the car, check if the idiot hurt himself and then help me. We need to deliver a baby before we can help the baby that is the Captain.”

 

You’ve lost track of time.

You’ve lost track of up and down, can’t tell if there’s someone touching you or if you’re imagining it instead.

And then there’s a loud cry, Scotty mumbles something into your ear and a warm and heavy and wriggling body is put into the embrace of your arms.

“Congratulations,” Len says with a thick voice, “You’ve done it, Darling. And she does look like a Penelope.”

You look down at the little girl that’s wailing in your arms. She’s a wrinkly red-faced mess with a surprisingly loud voice.

“Impatient and stubborn like her dad,” you mumble and touch the curled up lip with your finger tips, “Couldn’t have waited another day.”

“Well at least she’s got your looks,” Jim jokes weakly from his place on the floor next to the car and sends you a soft smile.

“We will see about that,” you say and look around at all the smiling faces of your friends. A tear escapes Len’s eye and you reach out your hand to gently wipe it away.

“Now, now,” You say, “Don’t get all emotional on me here. We have to balance each other out, right?”

he clears his throat with a smile. “Right.”


End file.
